


Out Of Love

by Gildedmuse



Series: 11 Painful Partings [3]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Challenge Response, Divorce, F/M, Heartbreak, No Beta We Die Like A Joss Whedon Show, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 16:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18577789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gildedmuse/pseuds/Gildedmuse
Summary: Who could love a demon anyway? Doyle had decided that long before Harriett.





	Out Of Love

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted to LJ in 2009 as part of an attempt to do a "12 Days Of Fandom" challenge. The first part was 12 Drunken Drabbles. Each of the 11 story is a different fandom but has a similar theme: Painful Partings]

  **Ou** **t Of Love**

“Its not.. I still love you, Francis. I'll always love you, but I need you to try.”  
  
That… That would probably sting. Maybe. He supposes. Probably, you know, if he weren’t so drunk he could barely feel his hand. Oh, is that his hand? When did it get down there? It didn’t matter. Honest to whatever God is clearly not bothering to watch him Allen Francis Doyle is having a hard time remember what does matter.

His hand he means.

Actually, well, Doyle is having a hard time with a lot. Standing, for instance, is getting to be quite the trick.  
  
“It's like you won’t even look at me anymore, Francis. How am I suppose to stay if you can’t even look at me?”  
  
Ai, is that the problem, then? He'd been struggling to figure out what all this fuss is about for the last... you know, he can't seem to recall how time typically passes. Least now he knows what their talking about. And to be fair Doyle's trying to look at her. Sure would be a help if Harriett would stop moving around like that. How’d she go and get all blurry, anyway?“Stop… Stop that and just listen to me,” Doyle waves his hand about, trying to get his wife to stop blurring around the edges. Only one of them is supposed to be messed up that kind of way. It's not right.

  
So much isn’t fucking right now, though, that Harriett being all shaky shouldn’t even matter. Not like she is the turning green and spiky, now is she?  
  
“What are you talking about? Francis…” He is trying to concentrate on her voice, really he is, cause he can hear Harriett pleading with him. She gets all soft and sweet, worried about him in a way his own mother never… Ah, good old mom. Goes and hooks up with the first demon comes around then doesn’t even mention it until, oops, looks like he’s got more of his father in him than she figured! “Franis, are you even listening? Please, just look at me.”  
  
“I am looking at you…” His shoes are blurring the same way Harriett is. So is the bottle he’s holding. Oh, look at that, a bottle, and there is still some whiskey left in it, too. Well, can’t let that go to waste. “You… You’re the one shouldn’t be looking at me… look at me, no, no don’t cause… Cause I’m…”  
  
She sighs and moves away, and even with the world as topsy-turvy as it is, Doyle knows that she’s not coming back this way. The world won’t tip her back towards him. This is Harriett getting up and stepping away from him. Who can blame her? When she said to have and to hold, they always figured she could actually hold him and he wouldn’t be sprouting spikes. “No, no your not. You cant even look at me, Francis. How am I suppose to love you when you won’t even look at me?”  
  
“You shouldn’t be,” Doyle whispers, tries to find something smart and sober sounding to say because, well, he loves this woman. Loves with every part of him, even the demonic and ugly parts he wants to be hiding away from right about now. Parts she deserves way better than. 

  
“I can’t do this, Francis.” Harriett is holding herself, and Doyle can’t even hold himself up. “I can’t keep loving someone who can’t even love himself.”  
  
“But… But I love…” The door closes, and Doyle just gives in and let’s himself stumble down to the ground and no one is around to care if he gets back up or not, so why even bother?


End file.
